The Banned Lecture

limited by the arbitrary theology imposed upon the mind of everyone. The abomination was at its height. But its decline has been rapid. True, one hundred years later it was still possible for Queens to be bulldozed by Presbyterian pulpiteers, but the time was already predictable when their best was for undergraduates to be bluffed by homosexual ecclesiastics. I suppose it is all in the family. While these profound thoughts were producing a hypochondriac obnubilation of my mental faculties, it suddenly occurred to me that after all, I had heard this story before. And I saw the connection. In the pitch-dark ages, when Christianity held unchallenged sway over those portions of this globe which it had sufficiently corrupted, the pursuit of knowledge—knowledge of any kind—was justly estimated by the people in power as the one and only dangerous pursuit. Even so, as late as 300 years ago, it was not considered very gentlemanly to be able to read and write. I am not sure that it is. In any case, it is a great error in education to teach these things. Grammar, we must never forget, appears in the word “ Gramarye,” beloved of Sir Walter Scott, and “ grimoire,” a black magical ritual—that is to say, any written document. Precious little knowledge filtered through Chris- tianity. It was against the interests of the Church, and in those times it was much easier to suppress people and ideas than it is now, though even to-day we find priests—at least in Oxford—who appear not to have heard of a certain recent invention by a notorious Magician inspired by the Devil—the Printing Press. But they feared. So those who pursued know-